Death's Sting
by Author of Scifi
Summary: B never died. He's alive, well, and most importantly... free. And he's on the prowl. Gah, I suck at summaries.... just read the story... similar to my 'Beyond the Limit' story, but yet not.
1. Prologue: Bitter

_Mmm… I really shouldn't be taking on a big project while I still have Beyond the Murder Cases going on, but meh, I was never one to be restricted by reason or logic. Probably a bad thing… _

_Anyway, a new story, woot and all that jazz. Sorry the prologue is ungodly short, but since the prologue occurs way after the first chapter I couldn't write too much. _

_As usual, thanks to mangaluver34 for editing my stories ^.^ I certainly need it. Go check her out (she's in the Favorite Authors section of me profile), she write exceptionally well._

_Enough of my yammering… glad you read, hope you enjoy, pray that you review : P_

**Death's Sting**

**Prologue**

While L's shoes made soft sounds against the tile, they made echoes nonetheless. He was tired. Cold. Lonely. Most of all, nervous. Nervous because he knew he would not survive the next confrontation. Nervous because he wasn't sure he was completely confident in his successor's skills. Nervous because he had no true idea of what lay after life.

His hand closed over the cold metal handle of the imposing door. The door itself was heavy, colored dirty white. It was the rarely used door to the roof of the facility. Used only once before, from what he could tell; the time he and Light had had to scramble to get into a helicopter to capture Higuchi. Now as he stepped out of the door into the pouring rain, his purpose was much less straightforward and much more arbitrary. Arbitrary being a word rarely associated with L, but suitable in this case. He wanted to be alone.

His wish was not to be.

He stepped out into the rain, relishing the feeling of the coldness that swept over him. The rain soaked his clothes and caused them to adhere to his thin frame. Ever muscle on his abdomen was visible, and the act of breathing almost too apparent. He looked down at his feet, which soaked, old tennis shoes that he had had since the beginning of his career as L had started, covered. The sound of the rain, the feeling of it pounding his back… all if it made him feel alive. As if the weather was trying to make up for an eternity dead… that he would soon start. When he looked up he scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"Might ask the same of you," the figure said easily, casually leaning against the low wall that separated him from oblivion. The wall was barely to his mid-back, but he seemed comfortable lounging there. His demeanor reminded L of a cat, and his words reminded L of a snake.

"You might. But you didn't. What are you doing here?"

The cat known as B smiled and winked lazily. "Enjoying the rain, of course." B's countenance fell when he saw L's mournful expression. "What's the matter?"

With that, L sighed uncharacteristically and started biting his thumb. "Life is the matter."

At that B let out a short, staccato laugh. "Nothing new there. Come now, what _is _the real matter? You're rarely so down-trodden. If anything, you're complete neutral in everything. Or most everything." B's words slid easily off his tongue.

L glared bitterly at Beyond. "You don't know? Surely your eyes can tell you."

At that, B grew very serious. He got off the wall and walked over to L, staring him hard in his onyx eyes. "You think you're going to die soon?"

"Why yes, I believe so. Aren't I?"

"L, I can't see when you'll die if you die by a Death Note. The point of the Death Note is to cheat lifespans… all lifespans are see are those that would occur if there was no Death Note involved. So if this is Kira related, I can't help you, because from where I'm standing you have a long, healthy life ahead of you."

"That's encouraging to some degree, I suppose. My death will be a peaceful heart attack, and Kira won't murder me with his own hands. Never thought he would though…"

"You mean Light?"

"Why, yes."

B nodded and procured a jam jar from seemingly nowhere. He opened the jar and began eating, seeming to not care about the minimal water that fell into the open container. "Well, exactly why are you so sure of your own inevitable demise?"

At that L explained his thoughts on the case. Light's being of Kira relied on him being in contact with the Death Note. When he somehow relinquished it during his captivity, he lost all memories and became Light. When he came in contact with it again, however, Light had acted strangely, releasing a blood-curdling cry and seizing up. After that rather disturbing episode, and apparent change came over him. An evil light stole back into his brown eyes and a slight, malevolent smirk seemed to permanently grace his young face. He was Kira again.

However, the task force, blind as bats, didn't seem to notice the change. L was obligated to release Light, else he look like an extremely arrogant fool and risk being turned against by everyone on the Task Force and ultimately be his downfall, and he couldn't keep Light in custody, having no evidence. He was in a bind where it would be a long, tedious stalemate if he didn't do something radical.

So, he contacted Roger and explained his idea. He would back Kira into a corner where he would be forced to kill L. If L died, Light was Kira and he would alert his successors immediately; however, don't tell them Light is probably Kira. If they are truly deserving of their name they'll realize that the second L is Kira, and if they don't figure that out on their own they'd never figure out how to apprehend Kira.

In the case of L's demise, L knew that Light would slack off immensely, and drop huge hints that his successors would most certainly catch on to. In short, L was gambling his life in hopes that his successors would be intelligent enough. He had the utmost confidence in Mello and Near, and, admittedly B, if he ever decided to take up the case. However, he had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with the Kira case.

After telling B that, B nodded and smirked. "Always so theatrical… couldn't you just draw the stalemate out and eventually find a way to win it instead of throwing your life away?"

"I could… but even in that scenario I'd probably end up dying. No, B, this is the best way I can think of…"

B snorted and shook his head like a brother annoyed at his younger sibling for some theatric or another. "L, isn't there any way you don't have to kill yourself?"

"No. B, you know what it feels like when you are so dedicated to a cause you're willing to give your life in hopes that your plan will succeed."

At this B smiled. "However, my goal was assured if I died. Yours is not."

With that, L shoved his hands deep into his pockets and turned his face upward toward the overcast sky, watching the clouds dance happily above them. "B… I've finally found it. The meaning of life. For me, anyway."

"Hm?"

"The meaning of life is to die facing a challenge that kills you."


	2. Tense

**Chapter 1**

Beyond Birthday strolled down the street of Japan, whistling merrily. One hand was stuck casually into his jacket pocket, the other was dangling easily by his side. His tennis shoes _splashed_ through the puddles on the sidewalk, his hair was flattened by the drizzle of rain. As he walked, his hair bounced, each time sending a halo of raindrops flying around his head. He wore a content smile, nodding at passersby and generally acting like a man happy about his life.

On the inside, he was seething.

As usual.

As he walked along the streets of Japan every day, to and from work, he acted affable on the outside, but on the inside he was seething, boiling, a rubber band ready to _snap _and kill someone just for the joy of it. And he hadn't killed in so oh long.

And today was a very tense day.

Not only had the boss at his new, boring job been a complete idiot toward him, he had been forced to listen to L's message to Kira across the TV, only tightening the rubber band of his angry feelings. Not _at _L, but at himself and his failings _regarding _L.

And today was the wrong day to slam into him on the street.

B had been walking along the streets of Japan, minding his own business, when _slam! _a man in his twenties (about) raced around a corner and had collided head on with B. B was knocked on his back, the other man was barely phased. Instead of helping and offering a multitude of apologies like any polite man would, he merely stepped around the prone B and kept walking.

At least, he tried to.

B was miffed enough at that broadcast of L's, and _this _was just _too _much. B swung a powerful leg around into the man's knee as he walked past. When B felt his foot hit something with a _crunch_, he brought his other leg up behind that same solid something and jerked both legs out and up, causing the man's legs to be yanked from under him, causing him to land hard on his back. With a quick roll and hop, B was on his feet. He walked over to the man on the sidewalk and stood over him imposingly. Passersby gaped and whispered, some stared, some walked off, but all looked frightened. After all, it looked like there should be no competition.

Let's take B. He was a rather skinny looking fellow, and while he had a lot of strength in his wiry limbs, he didn't look imposing. He had ridiculously messy, black hair, large, round, black, tired looking eyes, and a nice looking suit on covered with a jacket that didn't make him look very prestigious.

Then there was the man on the floor. He was wearing no top, allowing a defined abdomen to show. His arms were rippling with muscle and he was a rather burly man to boot. He was bald and had a mean looking scar underneath his eye. Basically, he looked like an everyday thug who whipped the crap out of someone like B for fun.

It didn't seem like this would end well for B at all.

Sadly for the other man, B was very, very _angry. _And this man just happened to be looking for a fight. And this man was naive enough to think B would be easy pickings. And this man was now on his feet, glaring at B threatening, making gestures with his hands that could only be interpreted as 'bring it on, short-stuff'.

And oh, did I mention B was _angry?_

Let's just say B's response was something like 'no problem'.

What happened next couldn't even be called a fight. The stranger leapt at B, hands formed into fists, prepared to mow him over and start pounding him while he was down. B, of course, wasn't having it. At the last second, he easily sidestepped the man, pivoted and kicked the man's legs out from under him, reached over, grabbed his shirt and yanked him up right before he hit the ground and slammed him powerfully into a nearby wall. Panting, he drew his pocket knife and jabbed the man in the back of the neck just hard enough to make a mark, then pulled the man a short distance from the wall and swept the short blade towards the man's exposed throat. It was the sort of position where the only two who knew there was a knife out was the one whose hand was wrapped around the handle and the one whose neck was seconds away from being slit.

"I believe," said B calmly (in Japanese), obviously not even slightly winded, "that you forgot to apologize." With that, he made a slight nick in the front of the man's neck so he could feel warm blood run down his neck and to his chest.

The man let out a burst of Japanese curses and struggled slightly, but every time he did the knife made the nick slightly deeper. Finally, he stopped struggling and mumbled 'sorry' in Japanese.

"I don't think I heard you," B stated matter-of-factly, sawing the short blade back and forth across the front of his neck, dangerously close to slitting it.

That was obviously too much for the thug, and he said 'I'm sorry for running into you' loud enough for passersby, as well as B, to hear. With that, B closed the knife and expertly slipped it down into a special compartment he had sewn into the fabric of his jacket. He backed up and let the man go. The thug raised one of his hands to his injured throat and eyed B hungrily, as if judging whether or not to attack him again. The cool grin on B's face convinced the man that it would be best to just walk away. So he did.

B was left with people gawking at him, and many backing slowly away. A few cheered, and one rough looking teenager even clapped. B wasn't one who enjoyed public attention, and he slithered off without any other words.

The fight had relieved some of B's pent up anger, but he was still spitting mad. Anger was a common feeling for him now, and if it wasn't for his immense amounts of self control he would have killed several people already whose death dates had already passed. But no, he had to stay out of jail so he could get along with his plan.

He arrived at his house, fiddled with the keys, unlocked the door and slipped off his shoes on the floor mat. He reached down and pushed them together with his middle finger and thumb and wiped a small streak of dirt off the floor with his finger. He was very meticulous, almost OCD, and that obsessiveness didn't stop with his crime scenes. He walked down the hall to the kitchen, opened up the refrigerator, pulled out a pitcher of water and poured himself a drink into a glass. He always kept a glass out so he could quickly get a drink when he arrived home from work. Picking up the glass and sipping from it, he strolled through the hall to his left and, reaching into his pocket and fishing out another key, unlocked his office. He shut the door and flicked the switch that turned on the dim overhead light, bathing the room in an orange-redness. He set the glass down on the bamboo desk and sat at the chair in front of it. There he sat for a few moments, eyes closed. Almost all his anger was gone at this point. There was something relaxing about his small, traditional Japanese home, the scent of a ginger potpourri always present due to his own special recipe he had concocted at Wammy's. Without opening his eyes, he took another sip of water.

His let his eyes slide open, annoyed, when he heard the doorbell ring. _Today__, of all days…? _He pushed the chair away from the desk, exited his office and peeked out the door. It was a teenager. _Who is this…? Oh, it's the Yagami kid. _

He opened the door and smiled kindly down at the young girl. _I was right, it's Sayu. _"Hello dear. What's the matter?"

She sighed exasperatedly and walked into the house without B's permission. B chuckled slightly and closed the door. "I kind of lost my homework assignment, Bishamon-san…"

B's new job was a teacher at a nearby school. Being the manipulative snake that he was, he had more than a few high-end criminals indebted to him. One particular criminal had skills in creating fake identities. So, B's new identity was Bishamon, degrees from some of the top schools in various sciences, law skills and one in teaching. He had been a teacher at this particular school for a few months now. Sayu Yagami was one of the brighter students, but she was somewhat absent-minded and was often losing things. It was said she had a brilliant brother, Light Yagami, but B had never seen him.

"You 'kind-of' lost your homework, Sayu? Or did you 'totally' lose your homework?"

At that Sayu blushed and leaned sheepishly against the wall. "Well… I guess totally."

At that B smiled warmly. "Wait here, I'll go get the worksheets." He turned to leave then faced Sayu again. "Stay here, all right? I mean it," he said forcefully. Sayu nodded cheerily. "Of course, Bishamon-san!"

B sighed once more (the practicality of sighs increased dramatically with Sayu's presence) and walked over to his other office. He shifted through some files until he found the homework assignments for the day. He quickly copied them and walked back into the hall to find Sayu missing. "Son of a…" he set the homework down and walked up the hall, following the path of water Sayu left through his house. He found her in the living room, gawking at some of his plants. He stepped into the doorway and stood there silently, waiting for Sayu to notice him. She had tromped around the living room for about thirty seconds before she turned and noticed B in the doorway. She yelped. "Bishamon-sama! I… uh…."

"You 'kind of' disobeyed orders, didn't you?"

"Well… no Bishamon-sensei…. I 'totally' disobeyed orders…"

B snorted slightly and grabbed Sayu gently by the arm. "Now look what you've done. You've tracked water into my house. What do you think we should do about that?"

"Uh… clean it up?"

B patted her on the head. "Good girl." He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed two towels. He handed one to Sayu. "Now, go clean up the water in the hall. I've got the water in the living room, all right?" His tone was light and he was still smiling. He always had liked children…

"All right, Bishamon-san!" said Sayu brightly as she skipped down the hallway. B couldn't help but laugh at her sudden shift from 'sama' to 'san', and from brooding to skipping. He wiped up the water easily and walked through the hall to see Sayu, standing there with a wet towel, homework in hand a beaming smile. B observed the floor. Spotless. "All right, you can leave now Sayu. Thank you for helping me clean up."

"No problem! It was my fault anyway! See you tomorrow, Bishamon-san!" With that, she set down the wet rag and bounced out the door.

B winced as it slammed shut with a resounding _crack_.

_That girl..._

Ahh, that was fun to write =) B has a mild case of schizophrenia, but that's what makes him so fun! I think. Probably not, now that I think about it. Phooey.

How many of you were waiting for B to scare Sayu out of her mind? He's not that much of a monster! *glares angrily* He can get down to business when he needs to though. But we already knew that… *chuckles menacingly*

Anyway, I'm pretty much talking to myself here….Glad you read, hope you enjoyed, and pray you review : P

P.S. Is it just me, or is the _thought _of Sayu bouncing around saying 'Bishamon-sa~~~n!' enough to hurt your ears. Almost enough to make you want B to hurt her... almost.


	3. Sensei

_Oh geez, it's been so long since I've updated _anything, _really… so incredibly sorry! I've had a writer's block for the past few weeks…all right, fine, forget the excuses, I was feeling lazy and didn't feel like writing. I'll admit it. *cries in a corner* But I am back, and no worries my loyal Story-Alert-ers (that's the worst word I've ever come up with), Beyond the Murder Cases will be updated soon after this one (at least.... relatively soon)! As usual, glad you read, hope you enjoy, pray you review._

_As usual, I'd like to thank my editor mangaluver34 =) Check her out, she's a great writer._

**Chapter 2**

As B's eyes skimmed over the computer screen, he nodded and wrote notes on a piece of paper next to him. The police threads were easily hackable if you knew how, and B , who had extensive knowledge of technology, had no problems finding holes in the security.

B only had one reason why he had any interest in the Kira case. It had nothing to do with the scope or difficulty of the case; it had to do with the fact that L was on the case. And such an enormous mystery like this would force L to do something drastic… and when that happened, B would pounce.

B felt no lingering animosity toward L; why should he? B and L fought. L won. Why should B be mad at someone for trying to win something? He didn't exactly expect, nor did he want, L to roll over and let him win. Where would the gratification of that be? No, B was mad because he had forseen every mistake he had made. He knew there was a chance that Naomi could have made the connections between the Wara Ningyo, the nails, and the locked rooms, but he had severely underestimated her talents. Since Naomi was the front for L, B might as well have lost to L. I should have revised the whole strategy… but how? What kind of… he stopped thinking about it and focused fully on the task at hand; predicting Kira's next moves.

Finding out what_ Kira_ was going to do next was a simple matter, actually. The hard part would be finding out what_ L_ would do next. But who _was _Kira, first of all? So far, the evidence strongly suggested that Kira was a student; at least, it had until the criminals started dying on the hour. It was quite unlikely that such a coincidence was by chance… and since the evidence first suggested he was a student, and right after that theory was concocted the murders started happening on the hour, it meant that Kira was probably a student with connections to the police. That narrowed it down to very few when you took age into consideration, and one of those very few was the brilliant Light Yagami. B had done some digging into Light's past and had managed to get his hands on some cases Light had helped to solve. If you take his phsyc profile from those cases and Kira's phsyc profiles, they were almost identical, except, of course, one profile was 'good' and the other was 'bad'. It was painfully obvious to B that Light was Kira.

And of course, B had one vital piece of information that L did not have. Kira was undoubtedly using a Death Note (B knew about Death Notes instinctively… probably due to the same reason he has Shinigami eyes). However, Kira probably did not have the eyes, based on the fact the criminals whose names were spelled incorrectly (according to B's eyes) did not die. This one piece of information made B's investigation go smoother than L's.

L, of course, would have figured all of this out, or at least most of it. However, B knew that L, who was constantly second guessing himself, might not go as far as to pin Light as Kira based on those few pieces of evidence, all tentative. It was enough for B, but for L…? No. However, B was confident that L would eventually figure out that Light was Kira. In which case, B figured this much:

L would send agents outside of the Japanese police force after Kira, since the Japanese police force is now under suspicion. Maybe the FBI, assign them to each person he is suspecting. Eventually, L would suspect Light, and seeing as how meticulous Light really was, L would probably be hard pressed to show himself, considering L's personality. It made perfect sense to B; after all, hadn't he himself used a similar tactic with Naomi Misora? Not exactly the same, of course, but close enough. After all, if L did show himself, what could Kira do to him, regardless of whether Kira was sure that L was the real L or not? Kill him and it'd be like sending a red flag to L or to the people L (presumably) warned about Kira.

This is what B was waiting for.

Basically, he would track every single one of Light's movements and would wait to see when the opportune moment for L to strike would be. At that time… well… at that time he would figure out the rest.

Of course, his plan was easier said than done. Funny how most plans worked out that way.. If he was a teacher at Light's school, it might not be so hard, but he was Sayu's teacher…

At that thought, B stood, exited his private office and headed to the public one where he kept all of the records for school. He found the folders that kept records of his student's grades and flipped through them until he found Sayu's grades. Her lowest was math. Sure, she had a brilliant brother, but B was sure that neither would mind bringing in another tutor… especially since Light was bound to be extremely… busy.

_Now, how do I ask Sayu if she wants a tutor and yet make sure that she doesn't say no… I would hate to have to sneak around the Yagami household. In the unlikely event that I am caught, I'd have some explaining to do… and anything pertaining to L's suspects would be reported to him immediately. Last thing I want is him to know I'm alive and hot on his invisible trail. Of course, there was also the obvious problem of Light figuring out someone was tailing him, but B had the utmost confidence in his skills and didn't think that would happen._

He closed his eyes thoughtfully and nibbled his thumbnail. He would offer his services free for a few weeks. That would help ensure that the parents would not be abject to the idea at first. But he was a teacher, why would he be offering services as a tutor as well…? Because I like kids. Or I see something talented in Sayu. He really didn't, but parents were often willing to allow their children to become putty in anyone's hands if they think those said people could make their posterity prodigies. Ideally, I would become Light's tutor, but that is out of the question. Also, he would have to eventually come up with a valid excuse why he would rather do it at their home than at school, as was normal.. Something about it being easier to concentrate in a home atmosphere…?

But observing merely their household after school wouldn't be enough to keep an eye on Light. Merely watching him at home would be silly. He was already a teacher with many other degrees (forged, of course, but B had more than enough knowledge for all of them), so it would seem odd for him to randomly go to Todou college, where Light was inevitably headed, unless it was to teach, but changing to the schools as a teacher was a lot more trouble than it was worth. Besides, the new teachers usually merit more observation than the old ones, if for no other reason than the unknown was fascinating to human beings. The last thing B would want is intense scrutiny by multiple teachers, staff and students. With such scrutiny he'd never even be able to get near Light Yagami outside of class without rumors starting to fly. B nibbled more intensely. _Well, let's just start with the tutoring. Maybe I can strike up a sort of relationship with Light. I'm really not too much older than he is 18, I'm only 21. I doubt he would need help with his studies, but maybe we could be casual friends… _that was a very remote possibility, but if anyone could do it, B could. _Or L. _The stray thought annoyed B.

With that, B left the room, closed to door to his public office and headed to his bedroom to catch two hours of sleep before he had to wake at five.

* * *

"Sayu-chan? Could I talk to you?" It was after math class and B figured now was as good a time as any to bring up the prospect. Science class, the other class he taught, wasn't until next to last period, and he saw no reason to wait.

Sayu bounced over to B with insatiable energy and said, "Of course, Bishamon-sensei. What do you need from me?"

"Your math scores have been slipping recently. Not enough to cause great concern, but I know you can do better. Are there some concepts that you are having trouble with?"

"Well… the quadratic equations for one, and some of the geometry…"

"Would you like me to tutor you?"

"You? You're a tutor, Bishamon-sensei?"

B smiled. "Somewhat. If I see students with potential slipping, I will often ask if they would like some after school tutoring. You, Sayu… I see potential in you, but not the kind that can be nourished in a classroom." At that, B put his elbows on the table and rested his head on his folded hands. "If you would allow me, I could certainly teach you after school… three days a week, perhaps? More, if you wish. The first few weeks I would teach you free of charge."

"Well, thank for you for the offer, Bishamon-sensei, but my brother can help me."

"Ah yes, the genius Light Yagami. He has finals coming up, correct? I am sure he would like it if I could help you instead. Finals tend to eat up your time… I remember when I was in high school…" his voice trailed off. Of course, it was all a façade. He had never been to high school, but it would seem appropriate for him to indulge in a small amount of nostalgia, wouldn't it?

"Well, yeah, I suppose," admitted Sayu. "Are you sure, Bishamon-sensei? I'd have to ask my mom…"

"I can talk to her when she comes to pick you up."

"OK! Thank you, Bishamon-sensei!" With that Sayu ran out the door. "Don't slam…!" A loud crack interrupted his sentence. B sighed heavily. The next few months would be very long.


	4. Prelude

_Long wait, sorry about that. Busy as of late. I should be updating a bit more regularly... uhh.... yeah, last time I said that, bad things happened. I'll say it anyway. I'm going to try to at least update one of my stories per week. There. I have now made a commitment. How's that for pressure? *breaks down in a corner* Pressure for my editor too? Speaking of which, check out her stories, review, alert, fav, etc... she's awesome. Mangaluver34._

_I'm actually thinking about starting yet another series... *sigh* (I'm an idiot) An OOC thing. It might just be a oneshot though, we'll see._

**Chapter 3**

_Naomi Misora... what could Kira possibly want with her? Furthermore, what is she even _doing _around here?_

B sat on the fountain, his hair slicked back into a ponytail, his pale makeup on and eyes outlined with black eyeliner, clad in a hooded jacket and black jeans ripped at the knees. A stereotypical type of disguise that was as different from his teacher façade as they came. So far, his 'stalking' of Light hadn't revealed anything significant.

Well, one could hardly call it 'stalking'. The tutoring lessons with Sayu had helped B strike up a sort of relationship with Light, but not what one would call a 'friendship'. They had had about four long conversations before, mostly concerning law and crime, something B had gradually hinted at having an interest in. It had taken about two weeks to actually get into a type of acquaintance with Light; he couldn't exactly waltz up and just start yammering about 'so Light, what do you think about Kira'? However, after about two conversations after Sayu's tutoring lessons, B had found a way to segue into the current judicial system being used in Japan. After that, it was logical to slip into talk about Kira. After all, he was a common subject of discussion at this point; a god-like entity punishing evil-doers? Perfect thing for two aspiring detectives to discuss.

As B sat there on the fountain, watching Light and Naomi out of the corner of his eye, one of the more meaty conversations about Kira came to mind.

"Done with homework already, Raito-kun?" B was just standing up and collecting some papers he had brought to help Sayu. Light had been walking; no, strutting down the stairs and into the hallway. Everything about him just screamed arrogant. At least to B. To anyone else besides maybe the great L himself, he would seem normal. But B noticed certain small but key gestures which suggested Light considered himself above those he was associating with at the time. Slow blinks, small flicks of his hair, head raises for a few brief seconds, and a kind of smooth talking and intermittent lilt…. he thought he was hot stuff, all right.

"Yeah, with homework at least; I have studying to do, of course. Finals coming up."

"Finals so soon, eh Raito-kun?" asked B as he started walking toward to door, with no intention of leaving but not wanting to look like he was overly eager to talk to the famous Light Yagami.

"Yeah, they sure did sneak up on me. Before you know it I'll be in college. "

"College? What are you interested in, Raito-kun?" With that, B sat in a chair near the door and cocked his head curiously, as if he didn't already know what Light would say.

"Dad didn't tell you?"

B smiled warmly; the expression felt foreign on his face. "Well, I've been mostly concentrating on your sister, Raito-kun, but since you're here, I am interested in what the great Yagami Raito plans to do with his life."

"Joining the police force is at the top of my list." Light leaned against the wall in front of B, looking down at B, who was sitting in front of him. _Odd how he didn't sit in the chair... _not odd at all, really, considering the high percentage chance he was Kira, but B felt it was the right thing to think. "I should have guessed. You want to be a detective or a police officer?"

"More detective, probably. Not really a violent guy." At that Raito chuckled lightly.

"The police aren't violent though, are they? Just willing to use force when necessary."

"Well Bishamon-san, I don't really know if I could bring myself to even kill someone in self-defense."

"Why not? I would," said B easily, almost disarmingly so. At that Light's eyebrow rose slightly. "You would, Bishamon-san?"

"In a heartbeat. If someone's attacking me, they're breaking the law, and by breaking the law violating justice... those that do so should be punished, yes?"

Raito squirmed slightly. "Within the law, yes," he replied quickly. Almost too quickly. _Why so uncomfortable there, Light? _

"Of course. But within the law, I would have rights to defend myself if attacked, so that's not really an issue here."

"Right." The conversation broke off awkwardly. B picked it up, wondering if now was the time to bring in a discussion about Kira but deciding it would be best to wait some time after the break in conversation. "So... is that the only reason you don't want to become a police officer?"

"Well that and I'm not really sure if I want to go through that training regimen. It's pretty tough," he added with a lighthearted chuckle.

_This conversation is veering away from where I wanted... I should have taken the chance to bring up Kira when there was that break. _"Isn't it? Still, as a detective there'd be more book work; studies of the judicial systems and whatnot."

"Probably, but I'm used to heavy book work. I haven't gotten into any intense exercises since middle school when I was a tennis champion."

"Still, those judicial systems can be annoying. You know how many insane laws they have? Not only in Japan, but in other countries? America especially comes to mind here."

"Yeah, I do. Almost makes you think that the judicial systems as a whole should be shook up a bit."

"Like what Kira's doing?" _Maybe a bit too soon but I doubt he would have given me a better opportunity than that_. The fact that Light had mentioned the opinion that the judicial systems should be 'shook up' didn't necessarily make B suspect him any more or any less. Firstly, if he wasn't Kira it would seem a natural response after discussing the general idiocy of some judicial systems. Secondly, if he was Kira, he would know that mentioning something that would only be really incriminating if he was suspected of being Kira would probably make the person think he wasn't Kira, since Kira would want to avoid saying such things. Either way, B wasn't any more or less convinced... but Light's earlier hic-ups and slip ups had already strengthened B's theory that Light was, in fact, Kira.

"Yeah, pretty much." A rather quick, smooth answer. Light was looking B in the eyes, but not dominatingly so... he just looked... so... innocent. _Oh Yagami, you're good... very good. _"So you agree with what Kira's doing, Raito-kun?" A loaded question, but again, too obvious to determine whether Light was Kira or not, or even to provide evidence either way. Either type of answer, anti or pro Kira, could have reasons which could be explained by both theories. No, B had to fish for reactions through more subtle questions which would inevitably follow whatever Light's answer was. He gave the safest and most nonchalant answer; "No, I don't agree with Kira. But I can sympathize with him. Who can't? Practically everyone can _sympathize, _but no one with an ounce of moral direction will agree with him."

"How can you say that? With that reasoning, couldn't we also say that when the law executes criminals, the law itself has no moral direction?"

With that, Light took a seat. Could be because he was getting tired of standing, or it could be that B had put pressure on him from the question. "Is the law necessarily based on morals?"

"Is going against the law morally detestable?"B shot back.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Neither did you answer mine."

With that Light sighed and smiled. "You're very interesting, Bishamon-san..."

"Thank you. The answer? Then I'll provide an answer to your question."

"It depends on the law."

"Fine; I can accept that. But no, the law is not based on morals. The law should be based on how to keep the populous safe... which, I suppose, could be moral since you're caring for your fellow man... but sometimes, laws are made and enforced to varying degrees for material reasons. Such as speeding. They charge what I consider excessive rates, and for what? Probably more for monetary gain than a concern for the public safety. That's why I ask, is it morally wrong to go against the law, period? Especially if the law isn't necessarily for 'moral' reasons?"

"Define 'morals', first of all."

"The human's discretion between what is 'right' and what is 'wrong'." Light opened his mouth to speak, but B kept going. "Of course, the definitions of 'right' and 'wrong' are so broad, you could basically shape morals to fit any type of character, as long as said character is the judge of his own morals. Morals, I think, are the humanity's collective ideas of 'right' and 'wrong'. With that in mind, is breaking the law morally detestable? Period?"

"Yes, because humanity, at this point, has degraded so far morally that laws are almost interchangeable with morals at this point."

B nodded. "Interesting thought, Raito-kun. You really are a genius."

"I had fun talking to you as well. You're smarter than half of the teachers on my campus, to tell you the truth." With that, Light stood and offered a hand to B. B was very hesitant to take it; he despised human contact of any form. But he did anyway. "Why thank you, Raito-kun. We will have to do this again sometime." With another warm, foreign smile, B turned, said goodbye to Sayu and the rest of the Yagamis, and exited the house.

In that conversation, one line in particular had stood out to B. _Yes, because humanity, at this point, has degraded so far morally that laws are almost interchangeable with morals at this point_. Which suggested a whole myriad of things. For one, it seemed to say that Light thought that laws were a downgrade of morals... in which case, if your conscience told you that what you were doing was right, you had the right to supersede the law. Also, he might as well have said 'no' since he was strongly suggesting that laws were not moral. Also, if he was Kira, it would have seemed like a justifiable reason, to him, to supersede the law.

That had been about a week ago. Now he sat on the edge of the fountain, watching Light as he talked to Naomi. Neither noticed him as they walked back the way they had come. B watched, until they rounded the corner, then jumped up, sprinted through a nearby alley, took a few turns, then skidded to a stop when he saw the gray light of the exit to the alley, buildings visible through the crack. He stood there, knowing if he didn't see Light or Naomi pass this way in the next twenty-three seconds, they had gone the other way and he would have to catch up. He was spared this nuisance, though, since Naomi and Light were coming the way he had expected; back towards Task Force Headquarters. _She found something out... if she dies, then Light killed her... her lifespan is quite long, and the only way she could die before it is by a Death Note. If she dies, then she learned something. If she learned something, it was probably through Ray Penber, who was actually on this case._

As B crouched in the alley, he was surprised when he saw a third shadow pass by. The shadow was... unnatural. Not human sized, and it seemed like it wasn't walking but... flying. B narrowed his eyes, pondering if whether it was a good idea to step out of the alley to see what it was. _I would look awfully suspicious if they saw be walking out of the alley... _B chewed his lip slightly, then decided that if that entity was otherworldly, it would certainly be worth checking out. However, B figured it was probably just an exceptionally large man, and when he peered out of the alley he didn't expect to see anything particularly abnormal.

So, naturally, he was surprised when he saw an enormous, flying creature with black wings flying beside the pair, both completely unperturbed by the creature's presence.

B was not one given to shock, of course. But B was as close to 'shocked' as he had ever been in his life when he saw it. _How could...? ...idiot!_ B scolded himself. _Of _course_.... Kira's using a Death Note, which is a Shinigami's notebook.... wouldn't it make sense for the Shinigami to follow his own notebook around? Why didn't I see it earlier though?_The answer to that was probably because the Shinigami just hadn't been around. So Light was Kira, of course...

Or was it Naomi? The chances of that were slim, but B wasn't about to discard all of his options. B had been surprised enough when he had seen that Naomi was now in Japan and was talking to the prime suspect of the Kira case... was it coincidence that she was near the prime suspect? Maybe she somehow knew of his Shinigami eyes and that he was following her and that Light was his prime suspect, and thus found a way to get close to Light while she knew B would be following them, and thus securing his suspicions of Light.

In a word... unlikely.

What... what was that? B stepped back into the alley and tilted his head. He heard something... laughing? Wild, maniacal laughter? That reminded him so much of his own? B once again stepped out of the alley and saw the strangest sight he had ever seen in his very, very chaotic life.

From Light's movements, it looked like he was writing something. Naomi was obscured by Light's body. But next to them... the Shinigami was laughing wildly, its grotesque head thrown back, its distorted body heaving with laughter, unearthly cackling grated against B's ears. _That's what the laugh of a Shinigami sounds like? _"Hmhmhm..." a smirk slowly grew across B's face. The laugh was infectious, bringing to mind all of B's murders. Not just the LABB Murder Cases, but others... others which were committed in other cities, other countries, committed for the sole purpose of experimenting. Those were the most fun, actually seeing the human body and cutting into it, looking at its parts, understanding firsthand what made it tick.... in Wammy's, of course, they had had biology classes and classes on the human body, but had never actually seen the actual workings of it and certainly had never been allowed to cut into a human being who still had life in their blood. The first murder was the most exhilarating, if the most simple... because that was when B had first realized the true extent of his passion, his zeal, his obsession with L. Odd how it took a murder for him to find that out. But as the lifeblood of his victim flowed down his hands, he had realized in an instant that what he was doing wasn't a mere game... it was real, it was _life_, and that made his objective seem that much more paramount.

Of course, the thoughts of that brought back thoughts of his more recent defeat, which _almost _made him _want _to kill L, but no... that is a childish idea. At this point, he neither wanted to defeat nor kill L, but stay close to him, observe him more, read him, learn him... become more like him, and then break him. How, he didn't know, but the getting close to L was the problem. For which Kira had provided the perfect answer.

When the laugh stopped, he was brought out of his reverie, and realizing he was standing in plain sight, decided he didn't need to see anymore. Light was Kira, and that was what he had been trying to figure out for sure. He walked toward them, not looking at them, acting like a normal passerby. It wouldn't matter if they recognized him as the teen from the fountain... it wouldn't be overly suspicious.

B glanced at Naomi, wishing he could stay, and talk, and tell her why he had done what he had done, and explain that he wasn't a monster, but now was hardly... what? B didn't stop, but he _knew _he had just seen Naomi's lifespan drop dramatically... she had less than twenty-four hours to live! She walked off away from Light, melancholy... no, beyond that... devastated, her walk almost a lumber, as if the weight of something or another was almost too much for her to bear. B wasn't surprised, really... unless Naomi actually _was _Kira, it would make sense that she would die, especially having met Kira. Maybe why the Shinigami was laughing earlier? But why would a Shinigami laugh every time his 'master' killed someone...? _Don't worry about it... Kira probably had to work to get her to reveal her real name and not an alias... of _course _she'd use an alias... and the Shinigami was delighted when Light finally achieved his goal. _B didn't feel any remorse at all for the girl. She chose to get herself tangled in the Kira case, probably against desperate urgings of her fiancée, and she had lost. _Pity we never had the chance to talk one last time.... _


	5. Haunt

_Chapter 4 almost on time... _almost_.... almost.... Sorry, shorter chapter. Next chapter is going to be fun and angsty. Angstily fun. Oh, by the way, I actually have been writing... co-authoring with The Zaniac. .net/~thezaniac. If you're bored, read it. After you read this. Anyway. ^.^_

**Chapter 4**

_I was right_. The thought brought with a sense of slight egotism.

Beyond crossed his legs and brought his hand up to his neck to scratch it, then rolled his neck. He enjoyed the feeling and sound of the deep _crack_. He watched as the two high school graduates walked up the aisle, smirking as he saw the one in the back whisper something in the other's ear. When they stepped up to the platform to speak, he could almost feel the shock and disbelief in the air. They were all staring at L, of course… wild, feral, and sleek as a white and black panther wearing jeans with a large bush of fur on its head.

Beyond could have spent his time listening to the speeches, seething and yet reveling in the sound of L's enigmatic voice and noting the contrast with the polished Light Yagami's speeches, but his time would be better spent preparing for when L actually left.

He had picked a seat at the back on purpose… not so much so he wouldn't disturb the masses when he picked up and left, but more so L wouldn't note his presence. Even here, in the dregs of the chairs, it was unlikely L wouldn't at least take some slight interest in the man who randomly left in the middle of his speech. Still, it couldn't be avoided. One reason he hadn't dressed up in his usual doppelganger outfit; dressed in a nice suit, hair slicked back like the rest of the pompous drones in the room… he felt out of place being _in _place.

Quietly, he stood, slithering out the door in the middle of L's speech where he would be most distracted by the striking piece of white paper stained with black lines that he was now holding delicately with his index fingers and thumbs, his undisguised voice grating oddly against B's eardrums.

His plan from here was rather simple… but maybe not so simple. It just depended on whether or not Watari had decided to leave or not. Wouldn't make sense for him to do so, though. After all, you can't be too careful with the intellect of the century.

In this one case, such a decision might prove detrimental.

Or maybe not, considering that B didn't want to kill or hurt L. But that was beside the point.

He could have just walked up to the stuffed shirt's car, threatened him a bit, and just as easily accomplished his goal, but it would be so much more enjoyable to give the old man a bit more of a shock.

B angled for the bathroom, brushing shoulders with another student, who was late and aware of it, judging by his heavy breathing and intensely focused countenance. B entered the door he had been angling for, checked to make sure no one was in the bathroom and turned to the stall he had put the backpack in and locked. He climbed over the door and landed with a soft _whump. _Undignified, sure, but B didn't care about the majority's definition of 'dignity'. Similar to how he didn't give a wit for the majority's magical pixie dust of justice.

He opened the backpack and retrieved its contents… makeup, faded, baggy jeans, long white shirt with three quarters sleeves, and gray contacts. He removed the blue contacts that hid his blood red eyes first, then inserted the gray ones, not needing a mirror, dusted his face with the pale makeup, then took off his ridiculous top-dollar suit and donned his customary (maybe even religiously so) garb. Running one hand through his hair to muss it up, he used the other to stuff the rest of the contents into the backpack. That deed done, he hung the backpack on the hook on the back of the door, climbed onto the toilet, climbed over into the other stall and exited. The only purpose was to ensure that the backpack wouldn't be found in the next fifteen minutes. Even if it was, the consequences would be minimal, but B, perfectionist as he was, despised even minimal negative consequences.

Watari would probably suspect something, of course, when B waltzed up to the car. But what else could he do but open the door when his precious Lawli came early, asking to be carted away from that horrid social situation?

Well, maybe his excuse wouldn't be quite _that _outrageous, at least not as far as L acting like a spoiled brat and wanting away, but he would think of something. After all, he wasn't going to be asking Watari to leave… he would just be asking him to let him stay in the car until the original came out.

Who knows, maybe an excuse wouldn't even be necessary.

There might have been other, simpler ways to do this, but the way he had decided would drive home into Lawli's mind that he _was _an exceptional copy, at the very least. After all, his caretaker couldn't even tell the difference at first.

Of course, at this point, this was all hypothetical.

_Time to put it into fruition then. _At the urging of his mind, B exited the bathroom and strolled casually to the door, not adopting L's signature slouch until he was actually outside.

And of course, Watari was waiting patiently in the parking lot, in one of the more forward spots reserved for the speakers.

B walked, or rather slouched up to the car's tinted windows, strolled over to the back and opened the door, which Watari had opened a few seconds earlier.

"What is the matter, Ryuzaki?" asked Watari as he turned. "You're out early."

"Please open the front door, Watari." B's voice was virtually identical to L's; born from years and years of practicing and listening to the few tapes he had of L's voice… L's speeches…if they could even be justifiably called that… to his successor. Beyond Birthday. Every time he listened to the haughty speeches his blood boiled.

Watari was slightly confused as to why L wanted to sit in the front, of course, where he never sat, but who was he to deny his precious Lawli a change in habit? He unlocked the front door, allowing B to sit in the front… in L's typical crouch, of course… and close the door. The position allowed him to slip a knife from a section in his jeans without making too much apparent movement. Knife in hand, hidden behind his bent knees, he turned toward Watari, dropping all pretenses, and let out a low chuckle. "Well well Watari. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Almost surprisingly… but not quite… Watari showed almost no reaction. He merely swallowed, then turned toward the doppelganger who was sitting in the chair next to him. "B." There was no hint of a question in his voice.

"I am quite pleased you recognized me at last." B allowed his feet to drop, exposing the long knife, its hilt covered in cloth so his fingerprints wouldn't show up on it if he was obliged to use it. Watari's death, however, was not soon… it was in a few years, assuming, of course, he was not killed with a Death Note first. Thus, B wouldn't be forced to actually kill the man, and, taking his age into consideration, probably wouldn't even be obliged to hurt him, since even a minimal injury could be fatal.

"Your imitation of Ryuzaki is quite amazing." To the point or patronizing?

"Look, Watari, I am not going to dwell on insignificant details. You know you have very few options at this point. In such close quarters, the gun you have hidden in here somewhere… I know you have one… will have no advantage over my knife, and I'm sure you're not willing to risk your life, and consequently L's life, in a foolish pursuit of revenge or self defense. You also know you can't just drive away and leave your little prodigy here. I know for a fact that you are uncomfortable with him merely being here at the university. You could try to run, but that leaves you with the aforementioned problem. Perhaps not normally a problem, but with _me _here…" B gave a small shrug. "Leaving him alone would be a very foolish idea."

"What do you want, Beyond?" His calm demeanor was beginning to irk B.

"I want L, of course."

"Do you wish to harm Ryuzaki?"

"No. In fact, I wish to offer my assistance." With that, he leaned casually back in the seat, head cocked haughtily, slight smile on his face.

Watari still showed no reaction, but from his eyes B could tell he was slightly intrigued. _Truthfully, I just want to be near him… observe, figure out _exactly _who he is… Wammy's never _did _give us a very good impression… then crush and humiliate him in the best way possible. _"Assistance? Ryuzaki needs no assistance."

"I'm not giving it to him because he needs it," B said through a yawn, "I'm giving it to him because I want to be near him. The easiest way to do that is to offer assistance. Which I will do at the appropriate times, of course."

Watari opened his mouth to say something then stopped. He already understood he was stuck in a quandary with no ways out that would benefit. Sure, L could take care of himself and Watari leaving with B in the car might not be such a bad idea, but B would plausibly either harm Watari or get out of the car and hold L hostage until his demands were met. B had obviously planned this from the beginning… there was no exit strategy, and the only reason there wasn't was because of L's unique situation; that he _was _out and about, in public and active, confronting Kira, no less, face to face… Watari couldn't risk leaving even if B had waltzed in with nothing but a threatening paperclip.

_….so what was the point of the knife…?_

"When is L coming out?" The abrupt question interrupted Watari's thinking processes.

"He should be out in about thirty minutes, Beyond." Watari saw no benefit in withholding the information… B probably had it anyway.

So Beyond rested his head against the seat and waited.


	6. Pounce

_HOLY. CRAP. I've had this chapter lying in my documents for MONTHS... SORRY GUYS. T.T Wooow... I've been stuck on chapter 6 forever then realized I hadn't posted Chapter 5... *facepalm facepalm facepalm* KILL ME._

_This AN is also really old, so... if it seems off kilter that's why._

_...my bad._

_AN: This chapter was so much fun to write… closest thing I've gotten to writing something nice and angsty recently was that last chapter of March of Mephisto. *grins* This story has been too happy-go-lucky so far anyway. At least, for me. The next chapter will probably also be heavy on the angst._

_I have had an idea like this for a long time… I've written one non-OOC story with B and L actually meeting (Salty Rain) and that was a short oneshot so I had been wondering how I would want them to be introduced when I finally wrote a fanfiction with their extended interaction. And I didn't want them to meet in the car with Watari there… something about it just seemed limiting. And no, no lemons, shut up fangirls. _

_So. I came up with this. I'll explain the transition later, so sorry if for now it's slightly awkward._

_PS. You might want to look up and listen to The Haunting (Somewhere in Time) by Kamelot if you haven't heard it, since there's reference to the (amazing) song in the fanfiction._

**Chapter 5**

He didn't quite know how he'd ended up here.

Rephrase that… he had no idea how he'd ended up here.

Granted, he had seen this particular room before, one might even say he had seen it on a fairly regular basis. It was his bedroom. Considering the fact that he was an insomniac, he didn't see the room as often as most normal, sleep-loving individuals die, as L was nowhere near normal.

That wasn't the point though. The point was that he had no idea in hell how he had ended up here at this particular point in time. Consequently, a seemingly everyday situation took an ominous turn, and L, who wasn't the type to see ghosts or to be startled by every thing that went creak in the night, was suddenly thrown into a heightened state of awareness, a state that left him jumpy and nervous. Thus, when he heard what sounded like feet on carpet, he yelped softly, turning toward the sound. Seeing nothing, he instinctively looked in the opposite direction, his hands shaking slightly.

"_Maybe the sound of your voice made me believe that… that you were her…_" The voice came from where he had heard the footsteps; it was the voice of a phantasm, a mourning shade. "_Just like the river disturbs my inner peace…" _The voice came louder, deep and sensuous, invading L's mind with a firm yet gentle quality. "_Once I believed I could find just a trace of her beloved soul… once I believe she was all, then she smothered my beliefs…" _The voice was getting louder, the soft footsteps become solidified, definite footfalls. The last line in particular was sung with a hollow, melancholy quality, portraying a personal hurt. "_One cold winter's night, I may follow her voice to the river… leave me for now and forever… leave while you can…" _The song came from a different angle now, fading out slowly… the voice was moving. L turned, trying to find the source.

He felt the phantom's presence and his warmth before the shade's hands hooked themselves around his waist from behind.

He gasped and tried to twist out of the grip, but the arms held him too tight. He felt a head rest itself on his shoulder, the voice was singing directly into his ear. "_Somewhere in time I will find you and haunt you again… like the wind sweeps the earth… somewhere in time when no virtues are left to defend… you've fallen deep…" _L could have struggled again, could have twisted away... but he didn't. He stood and listened, knowing the arms belonged to a killer, the voice to someone he thought dead a long time ago. "_I was a liar in every debate, I drew the forces that fueled your hate…" _L's eyes drifted shut as he listened to the sonorous notes, ignoring the overwhelming urge he had to do everything in his power to escape his… assailant…?

The arms wrapped themselves slightly tighter around L, but not uncomfortably so. "_When the cold in my heart leaves it comes to an end, and quietly I'll go to sleep…" _The singing stopped with a final, sorrow-filled note, and the man spoke, head still rested on the detective's shoulder. "Hello, Lawli. Miss me?" All indication of melancholy and mourning had left from his voice. It was now crisply harsh and sadistic, cutting into L's ear.

L started to struggle, and this time, the arms let him. He was abruptly released, and went stumbling into the wall. Hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved his back into the wall, causing L to stare directly into Beyond Birthday's red, red eyes, alight with a subtle yet vehement hate. At least, that is what L interpreted it as.

"I asked you a question, Lawli." Beyond was gripping his shoulders uncomfortably hard.

"I… I thought you were dead!"

"I do not believe that answers my question," he purred.

"…I… no, I didn't miss you! Why would I miss you?"

B's face dropped mockingly into a puppy dog face. "Ahh, but Laaawli… I missed you…" the tone in which the last three words were said betrayed all appearance of puppy poignancy. The man leaned uncomfortably close, his metallic breath washing over the insomniac's face. L shivered, chills running up his back and slithering throughout the rest of his body, just now registering that B _somehow _knew his real name…. at least part of it.

The man's eyes drilled themselves into L, paralyzing him with raw, untapped emotion. He had no idea how to respond.

He blinked with surprise when Beyond's grip loosened suddenly and considerably. They stared at each other for the period of a eternal seconds, then Beyond released him completely. The man he had been holding slumped slightly.

When L tried to speak, a lump rose in his throat. He swallowed to relieve the tension and tried again. "What are you doing here, Beyond? How are you even alive?"

"How I'm alive is immaterial, and as for why I'm here…. I'm not here for revenge, if that's what you're thinking."

The news surprised the detective. He had assumed, of course, that B was here to exact revenge, for what other motive could he have? "Then what?"

"I'm here to learn from you. Once I learn I'll leave and try again."

Understanding flooded through L. _He just wants to use me so he can waltz off and do another stunt to get my attention like a childish puppy. _"…and you expect that I'll just let you work with me? You're a criminal. You should be in jail. How you escaped…" L's head shook slightly. "Doesn't matter. It's my obligation…"

"It's your obligation to make it up to me. Don't you agree I deserve some sort of restitution?"

L let out a snort-type laugh, uncharacteristic of him. "Deserve restitution? For what?"

"For what you did to me. What else? Presenting us all with an impossible goal, getting close and then farther away, tantalizing us, baiting us, constantly torturing us psychologically with aspirations to be **you**. Driving one student to suicide, the other to become a killer... what happened to C I can only guess. I will assume she went the way of A."

L's eyebrows angled downward at the mention of A. "A? What happened to A? He just left, didn't he?"

B stiffened, appalled by L's ignorance. How could he _not _know? He voiced the thought out loud. "_How _could you not _know? _Are you so _uncaring _that you don't even remember when one of _your _successor commits _suicide_?"

L was taken aback. "…what? A… he…" L's ran his hands harshly through his hair, wincing slightly when the tangled raven locks were pulled by his fingers. "I had hoped…"

"You had hoped _what_? That Watari had lied and A hadn't hung himself from the fan in the library?"

"No… I had hoped he had told the truth…" L's voice trailed off into a quiet whisper.

"…so you hoped Watari told the truth about A's death?" B practically spat. He hadn't wanted to get worked up, but…

"No. I had hoped he told the truth about A leaving."

Beyond rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, his rage not soothed in the least. "You think you can blame it all on Watari, L? Pathetic."

"No." L shifted slightly then turned away from Beyond, then sat on the edge of his bed. "Sit with me?"

"I'm find standing here. Thanks for the offer."

L smiled slightly. The motivations behind the offer had been akin to a bribe, of course… less a bribe and more a gesture of camaraderie. B's response told L more than B suspected.

At least, more than he plausibly suspected.

"Wammy's… it was a terrible place, wasn't it?" A kind of testing of the waters on L's part, but also out of genuine curiosity. The question was abrupt, yes, but L wasn't one for egging a serial killer's patience with pleasant words and guised apologies.

Beyond drew in a deep breath, halfway to calm him and halfway to provide the oxygen needed to launch into a glorified rant on the malices and detriments of that horror-house christened Wammy's. Then the implications of the question sank in. If L was involved with Wammy's, if he was responsible for its horrors, he would have tried defending himself. Not adamantly or idiotically like most morons, but he wouldn't have preluded it with 'Wammy's… it was a terrible place, wasn't it?', which would have set Beyond's mind on a path that deeper considered the implications of the orphanage. L would also know that Beyond would never react to pitiful pleas or cries of innocence… but ignorance? If L really was…? _No, how _could _he be? And it would be his own fault if he is ignorant. He never cared about us enough to actually _do _anything about it. _"You have no idea, L. Or I pray you don't, for if you did and you can still talk about it so easily, I think I might just exact some early revenge."

"I thought your motives weren't revenge."

"…they aren't. I would, however, like to make you see my pain."

L nodded slowly, trying to be placating but not patronizing. "…then show me."

"Give me your hand." B held out his hand; there was the lightest hint of scar tissue on the palm, harsh memories of B's attempted suicide.

L hesitated, but following some urge deep inside he couldn't understand, he slid off the bed and took the killer's hand. Despite its appearances, it wasn't rough, at least not like sandpaper… it was a smooth kind of roughness, like heavy paper, yet silkier. The grip wasn't uncomfortably tight, but L could tell that B was very, very strong.

When L saw B's opposite hand slip into his pocket and pull out a syringe, it was too late. By the time L could react, B had jerked L close and had injected a powerful anesthesia directly into his jugular. L gasped and spasmed once, then slumped to the floor. Pocketing the syringe, B picked the older man up off the floor and exited out the window using the fire escape.


	7. Requiem

_AN: Yes! I have started Death's Sting back up again! Hurrah! Mostly because I thought of an infinitely more interesting storyline than my previous idea of having L wake up the cemetary where A was buried, and then B proceeds to pour his heart out all over the floor... OK, maybe not quite that cheesy, but... yeah. I like this idea better. I always did love including dreams in my stories, it allows me to do some crazy stuff, man, and no one will berate me for it... and include almost meaningless scenes that can be disguised under the, well, guise of "foreshadowing" or "symbolism" or some such nonsense..._

_And I can write about yogurty whiteness. No, not what you're thinking, you perverts._

_...anyway. Enjoy and please review, because I am quite afraid this dream arch is nothing but a selfish way for me to have fun while making my readers angry at me for not staying on track here..._

**Chapter 6**

L was not one to be frightened by dreams.

After all, what is there to be frightened of? They're nothing but the products of a healthy process, reflecting human subconscious, which is already evil beyond measure. You would have to understand that if you were in L's profession.

Yet, for the first time in his entire life since his boyhood, L was truly, utterly _petrified _by a dream. Maybe because it was enhansed by the drug B had forced into L's body. But L found himself seized in his sleep by this black claw called a dream, which skinned and shredded him before reaching into his heart and thrusting its black nails in and out of the ventricles, into the aorta and gouging the walls, then ripping it from his chest and tossing it aside like leftover scraps from a meal.

_L had always liked the dark. Something about it was comforting. You can see no one else, but they can't see you either; dark is an equalizer. _

_ Which was why L was dazed when he found himself in a pure white enviroment. Not merely pure white, but a white with substance, a white that hid things as black did, but blinded you; a white with the essence of darkness but the main feature of purity; nothingness. It was utterly disorienting, the feeling that you should see something but there is nothing for your eyes to grasp, the feeling you should be able to touch something but not be able, reaching your hand out and not being able to see even the appendages outline. It wasn't mere fog, it was beyond that as well..._

_ When L looked down he also found he couldn't see past his neck. It wasn't he could't see his defined form, it was like he was a floating head, although when he moved he found he could, he felt himself moving, as if through yogurt. It was cold, but not cold in the way that burned your skin, cold in a way that seeped slowly into the miniscule pores of your muscles and bones. _

_ He wasn't scared now. Disoriented, confused, yes, but scared, no. He attempted to move. He found he could, that there was just enough friction in the yogurt below him to propell him through the intangible slime. It felt like the substance should be getting in his eyes, invading his ears and every pore, but it wasn't. _

_ Another step forward and he was plunged into a deep, suffocating dark. There was absolutely no white left before his eyes. It was nothing like someone shutting off the lights in a bright room and then it suddenly goes dark; there was no residual perception of light, no spots before his eyes, it went straight from yogurty white to thin, thin black, so thin it was difficult for his lungs to catch air. _

_ ...what was his subconsious doing? Was it establishing past the point of the doubt that there is a difference between black and white, gray areas are human concoctions? ...but there was gray area. He as L would understand this better than anyone, would understand sometimes crimes seemed less punishable because of circumstance..._

_ Perhaps the next part was another dream. For the difference between the two was immense... the purely figurative and the harshly physical, but... that was how L's mind worked._

_ L's back arched suddenly without any warning whatsoever, and he was out of the suffocatingly thin darkness and into the alive darkness of closed eyelids. Pain... pain that was centered at the nape of his neck, a dragging, ripping sensation and sound filling his ears and being. Screaming... he was screaming but he couldn't know for sure because the ripping noise was overtaking him._

_ He realized what the noise was, what the pain was. It was the sensation of teeth tearing into his skin and literally ripping it from his bone._

_ With that realization his eyes snapped open, and for some reason it was a surprise when he wasn't blind. Blankly, his eyes stared up at a dull wooden ceiling, vague, almost strawlike shaes hanging mockingly above his head. He also saw rusty chains extended above his head and bolted into one of the wooden beams of the ceiling. He realized his hands were in handcuffs, which were attached to the chains, and the handcuffs were rusty and chaffing his skin. _

_ L took all this in within the first second of his obsidian eyes opening, but during that second he was more aware of the pain and the _ripping _than anything else. Feral, monstrous growls, the horrid feeling of teeth digging into him, made L unleash another scream that echoed throughout the humid structure._

_ The growls stopped and the teeth pulled back from his spine. Complete silence stole into the room, and L might have still whimpered in pain if he wasn't still in shock from the transition._

_ "You're awake," came a sickeningly sweet voice... it was as if it was coated in jam, sweet, luscious, sticky jam, and it was being smeared all over L's eardrums, was how sticky and sickening the voice was. _

_ But other than that, the voice was unmistakably that of a killer, a killer of the physical and the mental and the spiritual._

_ "...B-beyond..." L choked out, finding his throat was scratchy._

_ "Oh Lawli-pop, you remembered my name!" he squeaked out like a school girl as he literally _danced _to where L could gaze at him, turning to face L directly with a little feminine-esque twirl, although there was nothing remotely cute about his sadistic leer or the blood that stained his lips and dripped down his face. L's blood._

_ "...L-Lawli-pop?" asked L, infuriated, showing emotion readily... it was as if his subconscious was unable to hold itself together. _

_ B giggled and ran one hand through L's raven locks before fisting the strands roughly and yanking L's head back, exposing a pale, slender neck. "Lawli-pop, how delicious and sweet!" The monster's teeth grazed the throbbing juglar, which caused the detective to shudder, understanding the vulnerability of the spot. _

"_Shall you be the one I eat?" The tacky poems were said in a sing-songy voice with that same jam-ish quality._

"_B-Beyo-..." The jam lover's actions were so odd, so feminine, yet so disturbing that L had lost his sense of coolness and his old semblance of a stoic letter; he was now, in his own subconcious, a human. _

_L's head was still tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, and he felt immensely exposed, the fact that he was shirtless not helping the dreadful feeling that was stealing into his gut. The pain at the back of his neck had dulled considerably, nowhere near as fast as it would have had this been real, and not just a dream... _

"_Yes, Lawli~?" B drew out the insomniac's name almost mockingly, the hand that held L's hair shivering slightly while he constantly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to stand still._

"_...what... what are you...?"_

"_Make you mine, of course." The man's voice had dropped to an almost seductive purr, but it was deeply threatening, and sent a chill of dread down L's spine. _

"_...make me..."_

"_Mine." The word had a hint of a wine, and the man's teeth came down to nip at the porcelain arch of L's neck. "Not Watari's. Not Kira's. Mine." A kitten's lick on his juglar again._

_A shard of terror imbedded itself in the detective's stomach. "...yours?"_

"_Well!" a cheery word that seemed like the prelude to a child's speech. "You always did like to cast me aside like an old shoe, didn't you?" Another insane giggle escaped B's lips as his hand carressed L's smooth chest, who did not respond. "You see, successions, it's a lot like owning someone, isn't it? Having a child! Ah, but are not children just humans who are owned? Yes! Of course!" Sliding out of the raven tresses, B's hand moved to some blood that was dripping down his chin. "I resent being owned L, I really... mmmm..." he let out a soft groan of pleasure at the taste of the metallic blood as he worked his finger in his mouth, spreading the taste over his gums and teeth so they were both stained a lurid red, "...do, and so I figured, I suppose I should have my chance to own you!" He bounced on his toes and pressed both hands in front of his chest as if in a prayer position, the leer still on his face, his black hair bouncing. "Wouldn't you like that?"_

"_...Backup," L stated neutrally as he attempted to move his arms slightly... they were falling asleep from lack of movement and oxygen.. "L is owned by no one, and no matter what your delusions, I will not submit."_

_A child's pout appeared on B's bloody lips but he shrugged non-chalantly and turned on his heel, walking to some dark corner of the room. "Ah, but it would be no fun if you submitted before I had done anything, Lawlie..." _

_The sound of a door opening and closing reached L's ears, and for the moment, he knew he was alone. _

_Alone and hanging from chains._

_Awaiting the beast._


	8. Lurid

_This chapter. Was so. Amazingly. **FUN. **__...if you don't think so well screw you, you're not an insane sadist like me... seriously. This chapter might be just a _tad _bit M. For violence and all that crap... anyway. Everyone does "someone rapes L" fics... I WANTED TO BE ORIGINAL. LEAVE L ALONE *CRIES*_

_What am I talking about, I had waaay too much fun torturing him._

_..._

_*coughs*_

_Enjoy! And review, I want to know if I managed to creep anyone out at least a taaaad._

**Chapter 7**

_A discomforting quiet settled over the room after the last particles of dust on the dirt floor fell back into position with a dream like quality, too fast for mere gravity to be the only force. It was odd for L to have such realistic dreams, where almost everything except a few key pieces were out of place; base laws of physics and the reality itself, such as him dangling from a ceiling, his feet sore for some reason although not much of his body weight was on them. Otherwise, it was amazingly vivid, from the damp smell of the room to the humidity that clung to his skin, as thickly as if he was in a lizard's mouth... _

_As once more he shifted, trying to get blood flow to his extended arms, which didn't hurt nearly as much as they should have, he looked up and heard the door open once more, and he shuddered at the thought of B doing more than just licking and biting him..._

_...it wasn't Beyond._

_Light Yagami stood, proud and smirking, a few feet in front of L, a laugh on his lips if not on his tongue. The handsome prodigy looked the same as he had when L had almost flamboyantly revealed himself earlier that day, except this time L was the one wearing the surprised expression, and Light was the one with the aura of control._

"_Well well, Ryuzaki! Strung up and hung out to dry," he said lightly as he glided across the floor, not stirring anything as if he didn't belong in the physical dimension of his dream. _

"_Light-kun, hello," the raven stated dryly, not showing emotion even as he was hung before Light like a sacrifice._

"_What a fix you've gotten yourself into," Light purred as he stood a mere foot away from L, who could now see the odd red tint that glazed his usually auburn eyes._

"_Yes, yes, what a fix." L remained dull._

_Light brought his hand up and ran it through L's hair, much as Beyond had done, without the fisting and harsh jerking back of his head. "Such a pretty specimen, hanging there like that."_

_Fighting off the almost overpowering urge to shudder and jerk away from the touch, he stood as still as possible, watching Light's every movement._

_"What's it like, L?" Light's voice had dropped to a hiss, a phantom by its own right. "To be... helpless?" The college student's tongue swept slowly over his lips in a hungry manner, causing L's heart to clutch itself slightly. Something seemed to have happened to L's vocal chords too, for he could not speak._

_With a low chuckle that permeated into the detective's brain, the tongue found its way to L's cheek and licked up to the raven hair, where teeth clamped down on a few strands and yanked them out, causing L to wince slightly from pain. The strands slid down Light's throat in an inhuman, unphysical manner. Once again that tongue found its way to L's skin, but this time it ravished his neck in the exact same place B had licked him; but there was a sinister difference in the way Light did it... B had done it playfully, like a cat urging his master on to play with him, but Light... dominance oozed out of every pore, asserting L's helplessness... which L himself also asserted when he let out a soft, pleading whine. _

_"Heh..." a single breathy chuckle. "Not as stoic as you would like us to believe?" _Us? _L noted._

_Then Light's teeth dug into L's jugular, causing the detective to arch his back and scream with pain as the inhumanly sharp incisors ripped through skin and artery with a rubbery _clish... _it hurt more than L would have thought, the pain radiating from the original bite all the way down to his heart where the aorta started... but Light wouldn't let go. He merely clawed at L's porcelain side, then got a better grip so he pulled the screaming insomniac closer, as he jerked his head to the side and ripped the artery out of L's neck. _

_Blood poured like a river onto the floor even as L screamed, but somehow he was still alive. It seemed to just keep flowing from the artery, which was now torn. Light still held L close to him, seeming to not care as red literally soaked his pristine clothes, his mouth wandering to other places of L's neck, not biting, merely kissing and licking at the carmine rivers which traced paths down the pale skin._

_The man in Light's arms, however, had stopped screaming and had tilted his head back almost in resignation, every single muscle wound tight so he was almost immovable... oddly enough, there was no longer any pain, merely the feeling of something in his neck and body missing, and a _cold... _a terrible enveloping _cold, _the cold of a cadaver left out during a winter night. Even if he had relaxed his muscles, he doubted he would be able to move. _

_And as Light's mouth followed the rivers down L's chest, causing only a slight spark of pleasure which did nothing to break the ice that had coated the man's veins, a single tear streaked down the porcelain cheek and blended with the scarlet, the single expression of emotion lost in a sea of life._

_What did cause the detective to groan in terror then scream again, though, was when one of Light's long fingers slid up into the still flowing artery with a horrendous _slush. _If Light had taken a white-hot rod and had shoved it directly into L's cranium it couldn't have hurt worse than this rubbery, ripping _feeling _of Light's fingers invading L that extended far beyond where his finger went. And when the digit started to slide in and out, blood spurting from around it, a horrendous scream echoed from L's mouth, one that he could have never made in real life, but one that, in the dream world encompassed more than mere pain; it encompassed terror, pure, raw, unfiltered _terror_._

_Light had been silent the entire bloody, lurid time, a silent but vicious killer. Now he spoke, low and menacing, with an undercurrent of seduction. "What's it like to be totally dominated by _Kira_, L?" He shoved his finger deep into the artery, up the knuckle, then curved his finger harshly, causing the detective's scream to rise half an octave and the volume to increase twofold as he tried to arch away from the claw but was unable to, his toes digging two inch deep depressions in the dirt, his fists clenching so hard streams of yet more of the crimson substance dribbled down his wrists._

_With another horrid sound akin to that of a vacuum becoming undone, Light's finger wrenched out of L's artery, and the man collapsed, trembling heavily, the pain almost completely gone by this point, but the _cold _was still there... "You didn't answer my question." The snake invaded L's ears again, Light's face splattered and dripping with L's essence, his clothes soaked with dark macabre blotches._

_"I... I'm not..." surprisingly, there was no blood in his mouth, and he coughed up none. "I'm not dominated... by you... Light-kun..." The weak declaration was sheer illogical stubbornness on the part of the raven. _

_"If _this_ isn't dominated," Light said with a bloody, elegant gesture towards L's ravaged body, "then all of humanity is utterly free."_

_With a great gasp from lungs that worked despite every base fact of anatomy, the insomniac raised his head and stared directly into Kira's eyes. The tint of red had become a deep, almost spiraling abyss of incarnated evil, two of Satan's orbs suspended in defiant white. "...w-what is the point of this, Kira?" His voice was strong. "Kill me so you can go and complete your perfect world, but cease the torture."_

_"Torture? Why L, this isn't torture, merely correction." Kira's bloodied hand ran through the raven's locks again, leaving streaks of carmine in his hair. Descending slowly, he stroked L's bloodied cheek, tracing one finger down to the gaping hole once more, inserting his finger up to the first knuckle, causing the detective to clench his muscles again in horrific anticipation. But the pain never came._

_Light pinched the edge of the artery between his thumb and his index finger, then dragged the digits down. As he did, a new wall for the precious tube formed on his fingertips, which the boy attached to the other opening, like fitting two small pipes together. Massaging the crease where they met, he mended the damage completely, some of the damaged muscle growing back under his godly touch. With another gesture, skin unrolled itself across the open wound, and with a stroke of finality, every drop of blood melted off of L's skin and splashed to the ground, leaving the raven completely spotless except for the streaks in his hair. _

_Warmth stole back into L's flesh, and once again he felt alive, _whole_, and as Kira met his eyes with an almost pleasant smile, he felt an overwhelming desire to thank the god, to bow at his feet..._

_Breath caught in the man's newly rectified throat, and he shook his head in disbelief that the thought would even form itself _halfway_, much less fully and with intent in his mind. _

_"I was merely showing you, L, the difference between the demon and the Almighty. I am neither but both, capable of bringing pain and pleasure, a _true _god of pure justice. But more than all that..." The creature's red eyes dimmed and melted into a pool of obsidian, and he leaned forward. As he did something struck L; he was looking into his own eyes, and the mirrors captured him completely. _

_The eyes looked wrong, _perverted _inserted into Kira's skull, and when the creature hooked one of his hands around the back of L's head and leaned forward so his lips were almost tickling his ear, the raven struggled, truly struggled for the first time, trying to kick Kira in his legs along his meridians, in his groin, anywhere to get him to back up, but the man was immovable as stone..._

_"More than all that, I am you," came the low voice with the sentence L had dreaded, and the warm, pink tongue that glided along the shell of the insomniac's ear. With that sentence, L's sight defocused, but at the same time it seemed as if some of Kira's power had left him and had entered into L, and with a powerful kick, the raven sent the fiend flying. _

_For a few seconds, he could only see a heap of clothes, flesh and hair. When he could finally see again, however... Kira wasn't the monster who stood before him, neither was it the jam-lover Beyond. It was himself._


	9. Sonatina

_Nope. No excuses. I've had this lying around for at least three weeks and never posted it..._

_Punish me with reviews ;)_

**Chapter 8**

The raven-haired eccentricity lay almost completely still on his back as he stared at the single, dull light that lit the prison-like room.

Actually, it _was _a prison room... an old, broken down prison that had long been abandoned by everyone except the rats and the snakes and other unseemly creatures of the night. He liked the quiet it afforded, and the thick walls all around that would insulate any screams of his victims. He had worked on sprucing up a single wing, deep in the facility even beyond the reach of idiotic teenage punks, and the section now sported clean bathrooms, a sanitary rec-room-turned-lab, an incinerator in an off room that might have been a morgue (...God knows why the prison had an incinerator and its own morgue, but _he _certainly wouldn't be complaining) that he had fixed, and a kitchen. The few people who had meandered this deep into the bowels of the prison and managed to avoid the traps he had laid in the main halls had all had their death dates a few minutes after they walked into his line of sight... as such, he was allowed to indulge his twisted bloodlust for a night...

_Yes, my bloodlust is twisted, _mused the red-eyed killer as his eyes roved to the bunk above him, where his sleeping, chained victim was thrashing fitfully every once in a while, causing the chains to rattle unpleasantly; a scream would issue from his mouth occasionally, whimpers more often, fully contrived words less often... fully contrived words that were not names like "Beyond" and "Kira" even less often than that.

_Bloodlust as defined by the masses is a want for merely that... blood... _B's train of thought trailed off somewhere into the winding corridors of his mind as he lifted his hand and stared at it. It was so pale it seemed to almost be glowing in the half-dark dimness of the stuffy by clean room. Only a single blood stain tainted the otherwise immaculately cleaned concrete, and it was L's blood, so that was quite all right... the man had bit his tongue in his sleep. B had replaced the tongue with his own finger while he had worked to get the tongue guard out of his pocket, and now he lifted that hand so he could stare at the wound. It had stopped oozing quite a while ago, but there was still an ominous red tint to the wound and the surrounding skin.

_I was never in this just for the thrill of murder... nay, to experience the thrill of murder you would have to have some kind of belief that life is indeed precious and sacred so you get that high when you take it away... I was never under such delusions, it's just experiments to me, yet I am classified as a "blood luster" under humanity's standards... a mere serial killer, not the master of a great chess game, a tactician... _

Once again his thoughts trailed off when he subconsciously realized it was time. The killer had always had an impeccable internal clock, so much so that he never glanced at a clock intentionally to affirm his accuracy, not even when he was a boy... it was a feeling, an instinct that came along with the rest of his instincts; whether he had been born with such feelings or they had been pounded into him through deeper subterfuge from the torture house called "Wammy's"... he would never know, nor did he particularly care.

Chuckling softly, stopping, revising the chuckle, standing, and then revising it yet again as he noiselessly exited the room where his tormented Lawli lay, he hypothesized about the outcome of this particular experiment out of a whole line of experiments meant to decipher this one fact... whether or not fate succumbed to probability... and if not, explaining many of the impossible coincidences in the world of medicine and death...

The hallway wasn't lit at all, and the only light were a few moonbeams which had managed to find their way in through cracks in the ceiling or the barred windows of the prison rooms, but this was no problem for the jam lover. He had long ago learned to embrace the dark to quash the fear he had had of it when he had been a boy.

Even as he stepped into the room where his experiment lay, he didn't turn on the light immediately, instead letting his other senses give him a more detailed perception of the room first. Faint, clean scent of fresh blood and chemicals mixed, an undertone of mildew, which pervaded the entire facility, and an even more "under" undertone of salt from sweat and tears. The taste on his tongue was similar; barely metallic and chemically, slightly salty.

Currently, there was no actual sound except the soft whine of wind from outside the prison and the always present whisper of air circulating through the rooms, but otherwise, there was nothing except the doppelganger's own breathing, not even the slightest _swish _of a rustle from the sedated patient who he knew was in the middle of the room.

Now the man moved toward the switch. Even though it was on the other side of the room and not exactly a comforting walk in the dark with that hint of death, the raven trekked it without anxiety or problem, for he knew the room almost as well as he knew his the contours and attitude of his favorite knife. Unlike most of the rooms, this one was bone dry without a hint of humidity, although the damp smell of the mildew belied that fact. A modified air conditioner that was made specifically to suck the moisture out of the room so he could commence his experiments as accurately as possible... it was off now, as the raven had calculated the exact time each day and night the device would have to be running to keep the room at its optimum dryness... having it run 24/7 was not only annoying, but it also increased the chance of his discovery; although it was difficult to hear over the usual noise of the city, if anyone unwittingly strayed into his abode they would no doubt hear at least a faint reflection of the noise.

With a _click_, the room was flooded with a white, medicinal light, and the room in its entirety was revealed. The serial killer glided over the concrete towards the silent, tormented soul who was lying, back up, on a gurney, strapped down with restraints eerily similar to those the killer himself had been restrained with when _they _had taken him to asylum. His rounded face was red as a beet, the paunch he had originally sported had seemingly melted off, leaving an almost emaciated individual lying there, his head of messy, dark brown, wild hair had fallen out (the jam lover had gathered every last strand a few days ago when he had come back to his prison), and his body was marred with rashes and boils. A stainless steel table stood stoic, just out of the restrained man's reach, with several vials and syringes arrayed like small but deadly vanguards.

B cracked his neck audibly with a subtle smirk as his eyes trailed to the words and numbers that hovered unsteadily above the man's head... it wouldn't be too long now, only a few minutes... he took a seat on the concrete floor, leaned back and stared up through a crack in the ceiling with a content sigh.

The point of this particular chain of experiments was to see exactly how bound fate was to the practical, the expected, the scientific. B had injected his previous, oh, thirty or so victims with two various poisons that had two very, very different effects but would have no effect on each other as they ravaged the body, and B could easily factor in the inevitable effects the bodily detriments would have on each other, which would be minimal...; one was quite a bit more potent than the other. The serial killer wanted to see how many times out of ten the more potent poison would kill the victim than the lesser dangerous one. Seeing as how death dates were always set, he would be able to hypothesize a few various things according to the results, in conjunction with the volumes of information he had acquired from his years of experiments... mainly exactly _how _alterable death dates are, and how cemented to science fate is... for if it is Fate's whim the victim die from the less potent poison, who is B to try and misdirect the course of the imp's pleasures?

Once again Beyond's internal clock went off, and he stood up carefully from the floor, turning to stare at the corpse next to him. With a graceful turn, he stepped over to the table, carefully selected one of the battery-powered electric knives, perfect for cutting through bone and flesh cleanly, stopping to feel the coolness of it beneath his hand... with another quarter-turn, he faced the corpse again, removed the sheet, and turned the knife on. The high whine of it was soon punctuated by the slithering, wet sound and a higher whirring that sounded like wood being cut, but was really bone..

And somehow, at that moment... the exact moment the knife first cut through the skin above the sternum for the classic Y-cut of autopsies, B was unaware of everything but the canvas spread before him.

And that was when a low, keening, human whine rose above the sound of the saw.

It was L.


End file.
